"Go, Work in My Vineyard."
Ye servants of the Holy One,
Your Master's voice obey,
And rest not till your work is done,
Nor for the morrow stay. Look to the garden of your heart,
For weeds are growing there;
With faithful prayer act well your part,
It needs a constant care. Behold the fields for harvest white,
Fields of immortal grain;
Go labor there with all your might,
Your work shall not be vain. And other soil awaits the seed—
Beside all waters sow;
And ask your Father on each deed
His blessing to bestow. However humble is the sphere
By God assigned to you,
In just the place he gives you here
There is a work to do. Some sow the seed, while others reap,
And some prepare the soil;
While some through sufferings only weep
And pray for those who toil. Why stand ye idle all the day?
Filled with a Saviour's love,
Go, point to dying souls the way
To life and joys above.